Hope
by jillyfae
Summary: Doomed, perhaps, but they don't know that. Not yet. A glimpse of what could have been in the Circle at Kinloch Hold. Neria Surana/Niall
1. sfw

Neria was only a year or so younger than him, but she looked so very fragile, pale and delicate even for an elf, and on about his second day in the Tower Niall began making up the most ridiculous adventures in his head, of the two of them away from the heavy stone walls, exploring caves or mysterious woods or traveling through the mountains, and him getting the chance to protect her from some Dire Wolves, or Giant Spiders, and her turning to him and smiling, wide and open and delighted and with eyes even bluer than the sky, and thanking him with that beautiful light lilt in her voice.

Once he was over ten and actually saw her cast, he realized that was ridiculous even, for a little boy's dreams, because she was better at offensive magic than he was, and would probably fry a Giant Spider before he'd even seen the thing.

Also she had the temper of a Dire Wolf, so if he'd tried to save her when she didn't need it she'd have fried him too.

By the time he was sixteen, that thought made him smile. Though his imagination was now coming up with adventures that had much less to do with casting magic or seeing the world beyond the Tower, and more to do with the light touch of her slim fingers, and the way the very edge of her mouth lifted when she was trying not laugh during a lecture, and the slight hint of curves he could see beneath her robes.

She, unfortunately, seemed not to be interested in what was beneath anyone else's robes, so he kept his thoughts as much to himself as possible, and settled for sharing a table in the library when they were studying.

And then he was woken up in the middle of the night, his turn in the cold round chamber with a sword waiting beside him, and it was very difficult to smile again, wondering if she'd survive her Harrowing when it was her turn.

"Do you ever wonder if it's worth it?" Her voice was quiet, and he blinked a moment as he lifted his head from the scroll spread across his lap. He wasn't an apprentice anymore, but he still liked to read with her while she was studying. She had been enjoying a collection of ballads this particular night, so they'd settled in some chairs beside the fire, and were even mostly alone for once.

There was a Templar across the room, of course, but he was paying more attention to the large study group giggling at the table by the door.

"If what's worth it?"

She lifted her hand, pale fingers catching the firelight and making his breath catch as she gestured at the room, and the Templar, and the Tower entire. _Why bother locking us up at all, if there's no future for us anyways?_

It was a rather common question, though he'd never heard her ask it.

He didn't think she was quite asking it now, but it was similar enough. _Why study, why fight, why care?_

He liked to think she cared for him, friends, almost family, and that was part of what had inspired the question.

"Do you remember your mother?" He smiled a little as she scowled at him, obviously not impressed by his apparent change of subject.

"I remember being cold and hungry all the time, and desperately wanting to be warm, and setting my blankets on fire." She shook her head, the scowl fading into something sad. "I can't quite remember her face, or the color of her eyes, but I've always thought she was a bit relieved, to have one less mouth to try and feed."

"Ah." Niall sighed and pushed his hair back off his face. "My mother was what most people politely refer to as simple. But she could recite the entire Chant forwards and backwards, and she would sing me to sleep with a different lullaby each night. I remember her making it through an entire season without a single repeat."

"That sounds lovely."

"It was." He shrugged. He could still hear her voice at night sometimes, in that warm drowsy moment right before he fell asleep. "And then I somehow killed her favorite flower patch by siccing sort-of imaginary monster bugs on it."

Neria's lips twitched, half empathy for his loss, half trying not to giggle. Most people accidentally froze something, or singed it. Almost all children instinctively started with primal. Entropic magic wasn't as common, but when it happened, it was usually disgusting and messy and memorable.

There was frequently slime.

He was lucky; his had just been a cloud of solid black shadows buzzing through the leaves.

"Of course our neighbors were panicking, calling for the Templars and backing away from us both, but she just gathered me up in her arms and she smiled. I was sobbing and snotty and shaking, you know how it is," Neria nodded, that first flash was terrifying and out of control, "but she wiped my face and kissed my cheek and kept smiling."

_"I'll miss you my lovely, but it's a gift you have, the Maker's Gift, and you'll do great things with it, I know you will."_

"And the Templars came, and she smiled at them as well, and said she knew they had to take her boy away, but could they stay for some tea first, they always looked so thirsty walking around in all that heavy armor, and they were startled enough by the reception they'd rather said yes before they meant to, and we drank tea and she gave me the last of the cookies and stroked my hair and made sure I took my toy dog with me when I left."

Neria was smiling now, her head tilted as she looked at him. _Maker's Breath, she's pretty._ "That's not how that story usually goes."

"No, but it should be, I think. Magic is a gift. And we can still live a good life here, if we try."

"You really think so?"

"I really think so."

"Hmmm." She hummed softly, still smiling, and ducked her head as her glance shifted down into her lap. "I hope you're right."

He didn't know what to say to that. He hoped he was right too.


	2. (nsfw)

Niall had thought she hadn't wanted him. Had been honored to be Neria's friend, so he tried very hard not to admit, even to himself, how much he wished he could be more than that.

But when she'd passed her Harrowing, he'd been so very happy. Relief and delight and a warmth in his heart and he'd picked her up and swung her around and had to swallow a shout so as not to draw the attention of the Templar around the corner.

She'd laughed so very softly into his ear, her arms clinging around his shoulders, and he lowered her slowly to the floor, until her toes just barely touched, and he could feel the warmth of her along his entire body, head to toe, and he couldn't breathe, and he couldn't speak, and he could feel her breath against his cheek, soft and light and warm.

She was close enough he felt it when her breath caught. He looked into her eyes, so clear and wide and blue, and gently, slowly, kissed her lips.

It was soft, and though she was even sweeter than he'd ever imagined, he pulled back after just a moment, letting his arms relax and slide down her sides, feeling her settled completely back down onto her feet before he opened his eyes again.

There was the slightest hint of pink warming her cheeks, and she was smiling at him. She darted back up on her toes, one quick kiss upon his cheek, a whispered "_later_" against his skin, and she was gone, a twist of robes and delicate footsteps as Jowan called her name from the other room.

Their first later mostly involved talking. Dreams and desires and her fingers wrapped around his and her slight weight resting against his legs as they curled up in the same giant chair in front of the fire in a quiet corner of the library. There was always the chance someone would see, some Templar would notice, but they were quiet, and well-liked by most, and it was between their usual rounds, and he couldn't quite resist how wonderful it felt, to have her there with him.

To realize she did feel the same way, and had just wanted to wait until her Harrowing, hadn't want to risk their hearts if one of them should fail.

He didn't quite know how to tell her that his heart was quite gone already, and he tucked his chin against her head, the scent of her hair the only thing he could bear to consider as he blinked and blinked again, until his eyes stopped burning and he could breath again.

She shifted in his lap, and he slid his fingers against her chin to lift her face to his. He kissed her again, and it was different this time, warmth and promise and potential, and the slight hint of tongue between their lips before they broke apart, breathless and warm, at the echo of heavy footsteps down the hall.

Their second later was behind the shelves, one of the corners the Mages had found and protected from Templar eyes. It felt more like a dream than reality, soft light leaking through the books, haloing her hair, pale and soft around her head, making her skin gleam beneath his hands.

He felt rough and clumsy, had no real idea what he was doing, but neither did she, so they took their time, kisses and hands and the slow reveal of all the skin usually hidden beneath their robes.

Well most of their skin. She kept on her shift, and he his smalls, as he tasted her smooth pale skin and trailed his fingers against slim hips and found out her whole body shuddered when he gently kissed the tips of her ears.

He'd wanted to take his time, something more than a stolen hour behind the shelves. He'd been trying to arrange it, an evening apart, a day neither of them had too much to do, a store-room on the top floor where no one ever went, now full of blankets and pillows and a few pilfered candles.

But she caught him before lunch, and dragged him behind the shelves, her body pressed to his, her hands trembling and her kisses hard and desperate.

"Please," she whispered, "please, there's something wrong with Jowan, with the First Enchanter, I don't know what, I don't know how bad, not yet, but I'm afraid, something's going to happen, I need you, please."

And he kissed her back, and he kissed her hard, over and over, and he slid his hand under her robes, rubbing the heel of his palm against her, hard tight circles as he'd learned she'd liked in scattered moments before, until her breath caught and she shuddered in his arms.

She dragged him to the floor then, tugging at robes and smalls until they were both truly naked, skin on skin and the whisper of her voice and he tried to ease them both together but she pulled him close and lifted her hips and he slammed inside her hard and fast.

She made a sharp short cry, a strangled gasp, and his vision went white, _so tight, so good, Maker, Neria,_ and he felt the flow of magic from her, a trickle of healing, rejuvenation, and he wasn't sure if he'd hurt her, or if she was trying to encourage them both. He blinked, and dipped his head beside hers, breathing in skin and hair, a brush of his lips against her ear to feel her shudder, to ask her if she was alright, if she was sure, but she turned her head towards him, her whisper soft and aching, _please Niall, please more, please, _and he rolled his hips.

Her whole body arched that time, breathless and gasping, and he almost came right then, already, at the feel of her shifting around him, beneath him.

But he wanted more than anything, more than breathing, more than light, more than dreams without demons, to feel her come around him.

He bit his lip, his fingers digging into the floor beneath them, each shift of his hips exquisite and torturous and she was gorgeous and perfect and wrapped around, a gasp in her breathing and her hands clinging tightly and he _wasn't going to last,_ he really wasn't, despite his best intentions, and he shifted his weight just enough to kiss her cheek, to nip at her ear, and she gasped out his name, one last time, her whole body taut and her nails catching on his skin and _Maker,_ he couldn't control himself a moment longer, his body curving in tight against her as he came.

When he remembered how to breathe again he slid slowly to the side, and she followed, her hands on his cheeks as she kissed him, wide open and slow, sighing together, her body pressed to his, chest and legs and her toes catching against the top of his feet.

"Oh, Niall." She sounded sad, and he felt an ache in his heart, that he hadn't been as good to her as she deserve. She kissed his cheek, his nose, her breath tickling his skin. "I don't ever want to leave. Right here. Perfect."

He hugged her close for as long as he dared, agreeing completely.


End file.
